


double take

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, and then helps him out some more, fluff plus, harry sees his picture and NEEDS to call him, it's rather sweet thank you, louis helps harry find a place, louis is a gorgeous realtor, written for tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry spots Louis's face on a realtor advert and decides he needs to move. Louis becomes his realtor... and then Harry promptly gets tongue tied around Louis and his shameless flirting. Eventually they both get what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	double take

**Author's Note:**

> written for styleforstiles's tags (see end notes for those... it's basically the plot so there are all the spoilers i guess?). Anyway I wanted to take a quick break from my chaptered fic and got inspired :D Hope you like it! also i thought i was being really clever with the title heehee because harry does a double take when he sees louis's picture but then gets double what he expected too (aka he gets a flat and a louis) (whoo double the take) (sorry i'm not funny)

Harry’s walking back to his flat on a Saturday morning when he sees a beautiful sight. He’s got a bag of freshly baked chocolate croissants in one hand, his phone in the other. He’s left his flat early to get to the bakery, since the freshest things are made in the mornings. 

He’s focused on getting home quickly, because the fall air is nippy enough to cut through the thin henley he’s wearing. His eyes are on the ground, flicking up to make sure he doesn’t run into anybody. Still, the street is quiet at six in the morning and the sky is still gray.

It’s his normal routine. Coming home from the bakery, he’ll either go the long way by the gym and the school, or the shorter, busier way that walks along the main street with the drug store, the bus stop, and the organic farm shop on the corner.

Home is actually a flat he shares with Niall and Will and Tyler, a duplex with a small garden where some rose bushes have overtaken everything. It’s nice. It’s also only got one master bedroom, plus a tiny bedroom and an attic space and an additional room so small it’s about the size of a bathroom. It’s meant to be an office (the office of an elf, maybe) and currently is the fourth “bedroom” in the house. The house also happens to be about a mile away from the neighboring town, just as small as this one. If Harry ever wants to do anything, it’s a half hour drive just to get to a city big enough to be entertained in. 

He flicks his head to get his hair out of his eyes. Just ahead is the bench for the bus stop, just before the crosswalk button he needs to push. He’s used to hurrying past, trying to get to the button sooner to beat the cold and make it home quickly. But at this particular moment, he nearly trips on his own feet because his gaze doesn’t drop down again to watch where he’s going, and his toe catches on a loose brick in the sidewalk. 

He blames not noticing the safety hazard of the brick on the other safety hazard that’s trapped his attention. There is a boy, a man, an aboslutely gorgeous man (well, his face) on the bench that Harry was walking next to. Now he’s sort of just suspended on the sidewalk. Thank God nobody is awake yet to witness this.

In the faint glow of the rising sun and the street light that is still on, the face looks out at passerby. The man’s wearing a huge smile that looks a little wicked, he’s got clear blue eyes twinkling out, a swoopy hair-cut of brown, soft-looking hair that deeply contrasts the rough stubble that’s brushing over one hell of a jaw. 

Harry thinks nobody can blame him, really, that he needed to just, um, look again. He could be waiting for the 7:15 bus. There is an absolutely valid reason for standing on this sidewalk and not walking on.

After he’s given himself a minute (like 30 seconds at the max, really) to ogle the fit guy on the bench, the realization sets in that normal peoples’ faces aren’t just on benches. Which means... Yup, Harry lets his eyes slide to the right of the (hot) guy, and right there in stark red and grey letters: Louis Tomlinson, Realtor, with contact information. 

Harry tries to be subtle and sneakily flicks to his camera on his phone. He takes a snap of the bench (hell yes including the guy’s picture on it) to show his roommates. He’s been considering a move, get closer to work, to the clubs, but this little town’s been charming. He hasn’t been looking that hard, he’s only seen two places and he’s not going to lie and say he searched hard to find them. They were shite.

But now. Oh, now he has a reason to maybe look a little bit harder. What would he want? A flat. With two bedrooms, definitely. One for him, one for Niall, because it’s been Niall that’s been pushing for the move. Harry can’t blame him, Niall’s stuck in the elf room and usually ends up sleeping on a couch or in one of the other boy’s rooms. At the same time, everybody needs their privacy, to say the least. Maybe Harry would be better off by himself, let Niall get his own place.

And maybe having a nice kitchen would be a plus... right now, it’s straight out of the ‘70s. The counters are green and... plasticky looking. The floor is laminate. The refrigerator is a miniature, which Harry doesn’t have a problem with, but it has no freezer and four people are all cramming their food and take-out in it. There is also barely any cabinet space, and Harry doesn’t even have room for all his pots and pans. They usually stay stacked in a corner, which reduces counter space even more, and Harry’s not even going to mention the fact that he doesn’t have a dishwasher right now. 

And having an attractive young man help him find a nice place doesn’t hurt, either, so Harry saves the photo after checking to make sure it’s not blurry before continuing home.

===

Harry manages to wait two hours before calling the number from the bench. He’d made it home by 6:15, finished eating by 6:25, and had showered and put on fresh clothes before 7. Only Tyler was awake and he shot Harry a grateful look while holding up his own croissant, mouth full. “Thanks.”

“No problem, mate.” Harry joins him at the tiny two person dining table tucked into the kitchen. “Y’know how Niall and I were thinking of moving out towards the city?” Tyler nods. “I think I’ve got a realtor. So, like, it may be happening sooner than later.” 

Tyler nods, waits for Harry to get to the point. “Do I know the realtor? Is it someone my mum knows?” The joy of growing up in the town, for Tyler, was that he knew about eighty percent of the citizens, and his mother basically knew everyone as the school principal. 

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got a name and a picture.” 

“You took a picture of your realtor?” 

Harry blushed. “It’s relevant.” He dug his phone out, tapped to the bench picture.

Tyler whistled. “Well, I see what you mean... Are you going to call him?” 

Harry bit back a grin. “Well, obviously.” 

===

“Hi, I’m Louis Tomlinson, how may I help you?” Harry makes a surprised noise when he gets Mr. Tomlinson himself, no secretary or assistant. The voice on the other line is tinged in a different accent than his own, it sounds a little crackly and Harry feels a low swoop in his belly. It’s a rough sounding voice, but smooth? Oh God, Harry can’t even pick an adjective because that’s how far gone his mind has gone with the mental picture now-- he has a face, name, and voice for this guy now and Harry’s interested. 

“Yeah, hi, um, it’s Harry Styles?” Oh God. Harry is actually a well-spoken, highly functioning, practically adult person, thank you very much. 

“Mm? Yes, Mr. Styles?” Luckily Louis-- Mr. Tomlinson-- seems the patient type. 

“Um, I’m like, looking for a place. In the city? Like, just for me probably. I have a friend but I think he wants his own place, he has a girlfriend.” Wow, of course Harry isn’t rambling. 

“Do you have a price range?” Perfect, Mr. Tomlinson can at least act professionally to balance out Harry. 

Who is trying to think of a price range on the fly. “Like, four hundred?”

“Okay, I can work with that. Why don’t we meet up sometime, go over a little more about what you’re looking for?”

“That’d be great, L-- Mr. Tomlinson. Great.” 

“When are you free?” 

“Uh... does today work? I know it’s short notice, but... I’ve got the weekend free?” 

“Luck’s with you, Mr. Styles. I’ve got an absolutely free schedule today. The lady I was supposed to show around today actually made a bid on a place from last week and heard back alarmingly quickly, so she cancelled on me.”

Harry resists the urge to giggle and tell him (this stranger, who he has never met, only seen and heard) that that sounds like a stupid idea, who’d want to cancel on him?

“Well, lucky me? Is meeting at Cynthia’s fine?” Harry assumes Louis is local, or at least local enough to recognize one of the only cafe type eateries in town. 

“Sure, sure. ‘Round eleven? Gives me enough time to show you a few places, after, if you’d like.”

Harry’s beaming. “Yes! Yes, I’ll be there.”

When he hangs up, he pretends not to notice that Will and Niall seem to be laughing at him. Whatever. If they saw the picture, they wouldn’t be laughing. 

===

Cynthia’s is not crowded at all when Harry arrives, eleven on the dot. There are five people inside the shop. One is a teenaged girl behind the counter, one is the mum with a buggy, one is the baby in the buggy, and one is Harry, leaving the man facing the ordering board with his back turned to Harry to be Louis.

The bell over the door jingles and the realtor turns around. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, what seems like a light blue long sleeved shirt underneath to keep the autumn chill away without having to wear a jacket. And...

and... um. Harry’s mouth has gone dry. If the bench was enough to make Harry do a double take, he needs a moment to make sure his jaw isn’t on the floor and his tongue is tucked inside his mouth. 

Because this boy is fine. So, so, so fine. The image on the bench was grainy and didn’t pick up the natural sun highlights in his hair, or the way his muscled arms look when they push the sleeves up on his blazer. His tan skin seems to glow against the light blue dress shirt, his smile is blinding, he’s heading towards Harry-- he’s heading towards Harry. 

Harry’s still a little awestruck because he doesn’t think he’s been that automatically turned on by anybody in his life, ever. Mr. Tomlinson hasn’t even spoken yet, but his slightly shorter frame (hey, anybody next to Harry seems a little small) and his hair and his eyes and his skin and his ... Harry’s even positive that Louis probably smells good if he got close enough, like spices or vanilla or something random and delicious. 

“Mr. Styles?” Harry tunes back into reality and notices the confused look on the realtor’s face. Oh, shit. 

“Hmm, yeah, sorry?” Harry just can’t. 

A smile cracks across Mr. Tomlinson’s face again. “Did I lose you for a second?”

“Ha, no, just got distracted by the pumpkin autumn spice caramel latte thing!” Harry responds, too quickly and jumbled. 

Louis just raises a brow and smirks. “Mmhmm, I get that way all the time.” Harry blushes. “I take it you are indeed Harry Styles?”

“Yep, that’s me. But you can just call me Harry, you know.”

“Okay then, but only if you call me Louis. No ‘Mr. Tomlinson’ shit. Makes me feel important, and people often need to be taken down a few pegs, don’t you agree Harold?

“Harry,” he automatically corrects before taking in the rest of Louis’ sentence. 

“Why don’t you say we get started? I’ve got some stuff on that booth, over there,” Louis suggests smoothly. “I’m just waiting on my tea, why don’t you order and meet me there?” 

Harry nods and gets in line. He has a minute to clear his head, he tells himself. He just needs to get it together. He’s trying to rent a new flat, for fuck’s sake. He should be concentrating. What if he should buy? See, these are the questions he needs to ask Louis. The wrong kind of questions would be to ask Louis what his favorite season is, or if he likes strawberry or vanilla or chocolate best. Or if he’s more into comedy or horror or drama. Or if he likes chess or Monopoly, or if he likes the mountains or beach, or how he takes his tea. Those are not a client-professional appropriate questions. 

Right.

He’s back now. He thinks. 

He settles into the booth across from Louis, nervously eyeing the manilla folders he’s got spread out. 

“Don’t be nervous, I’m used to having things spread out,” Louis grins. He pauses a second before tacking on, “It’s just how I organize things.” 

Harry’s cheeks feel hot, and it’s not because of the latte that’s steaming up in front of his face.

“So what are you looking for, I assume a flat? One-bedroom? Do you have any special requirements, like pets or distance from transport?”

Harry shakes his head.

“Any sort of thing you want in particular?” 

Harry... can’t think of anything. His mind is blank, because Louis just took a sip of tea. His pinky had stuck out when he lifted the cup, and then his lips had pursed to take a sip and oh, holy shit. Because Lou had just stuck glasses on his face, probably to look at the papers in front of him, and they were a little steamed from the tea, but oh. Oh. Oh. Harry’s mind dumbly echoes this for a bit. 

“Harry? Anything. In. Particular?” It must be the third time Louis’s asked, because he’s speaking extremely slowly now, like Harry must not be able to understand him. 

“Uh...” Please tell Harry that this isn’t happening. Please.

“Well, that’s okay. I can show you a bunch of things, see what sticks out. And I’m a pretty good guesser at what people want.” Harry nods. “I can figure out what you want, but you just tell me what you need, Harry, and I’ll give it to you.”

Harry chokes a little on his latte. He doesn’t miss Louis’s eyes glint at that.

===

Louis drives them into town to visit a few places he’s picked out. He drives a newer model Mercedes, stick shift, and Harry swears to God that he’s not taken his hand off the gear shift the entire drive. It’s not necessary, but Lou’s fingers are drumming around the top of it, dancing along the sides. It’s distracting. 

The first place they pull up to is very elegant looking, it’s got large pale brick-like stones and is a few stories tall. Harry and Louis ride the elevator to floor three, and Louis manages to look like a model leaning up against the side of the elevator with one foot propped behind him and his arms crossed. When they get out, Louis unlocks the door. “Fits, juuuust right,” he says, with a little bum wiggle as he fits the key into the lock and then pops the door open.

Inside, he runs his hand against the wall. “Damn light switches, always hard to find,” he murmurs. He finds the lights, flicks them on. The apartment is nice. It’s got hardwood floors in the foyer, carpet everywhere else. A large black leather sofa is in the living room. Louis strokes a hand along it as he walks behind it. “Smooth. Cool. Very bachelor pad worthy,” he assesses. 

Harry swallows, tries not to imagine Louis’s hands pinning him to the sofa, pushing him into the leather seats.

“What do you think, Haz?” 

Harry blinks. It’s a cute nickname. Realtors can have nicknames for their clients, right? “Uh, I like it. It’s a bit... cold? Like, there aren’t any windows. And this kitchen is tiny.” 

Louis gives a brief nod. “Yes. Exactly. I agree. Lead the way,” he goofs off, pretending to shove Harry in front of him as if he knows where they’re going next. 

Really, though, Harry just enjoys feeling the pressure and warmth of the hand on his back. 

===

The next place is two stories, in a building where the apartments are slotted together in an interesting style. The living room and kitchen with breakfast bar seating are downstairs. The bathroom and bedroom are upstairs. 

Lou throws his arms out, Vanna style, to flourish at the huge window in the living room. “You like?” 

Harry smiles. “Yeah, not bad.” 

“Follow me, dear boy.” Louis flits over to the staircase, only to walk excruciatingly, slowly up them. One hand drags slowly, so slowly up the railing. His fingers slip over the wooden banister, grasping tightly and the warm brown of the polished wood just bringing out the tan that Louis still has even though it’s October. 

He’s lifting his feet so slowly to get up the stairs that it gives Harry a divine chance to examine Louis’s ass. It’s just perfectly plump, round and grabbable in the right way, and Harry simultaneously wants to slap it to get Louis to move up faster or just get a sweet grope in. 

INAPPROPRIATE, his mind screams. A sigh escapes him, and then Louis is stopping on the stairs, peering over his shoulder. “Something wrong?” 

“Nope.” Harry says, then presses his lips together in a tight smile. He takes the time while Louis is still walking up the stairs to lead him to the bathroom to try and fumble and adjust himself so that his embarrassing bulge isn’t so prominent. He’s... it’s been... Louis.. okay, so there are a bunch of reasons why Harry may be wishing so desperately to cross a line.

Before he can bite his lip hard enough to break the skin, Louis is turning around again, brilliant smile lighting up his face. “Let me show you the bathroom!”

“Never has anyone been so excited to show me a bathroom,” Harry teases. He isn’t capable of higher thinking at the moment.

Louis sticks his tongue out, and Harry didn’t realize that was a turn on, but now? It seems so immature but it adds to Lou’s charm, and Harry finds himself moving closer to Louis anyways.

Louis brushes the door open, pulls Harry in by grabbing his shirt. It feels like a pretty hot move to Harry, but maybe he’s just a little desperate. Louis points to the corner of the room. “Deep sunken tub, with jets. For bubbles. You can never have too many bubbles, can you, Harry? And this tub is just so gorgeous, big enough for two, did you realize?” 

The bathroom is obviously big enough and posh enough to have such a luxurious bath, but Louis is acting like there is no room to spin around the room. As he turns around to look up at Harry to hear his response, his ass brushes Harry’s crotch. 

Louis is still looking as innocent as fuck-all, so Harry tries not to make a noise and just shakes his head. “Hm. Never noticed.” His voice is strangled. 

“I have a few more spots we could go,” Louis offers. “Coming?” Nearly, Harry thinks to himself. Out loud, he just says a meek yes and follows Louis down the stairs. 

===

The third building is nice. It’s a bit boring on the outside, but on the inside, the previous owner’s have had an interesting taste in furnishings. Louis bypasses the kitchen and living room, sparing only a cursory glance. “We can go from the back to the front,” he suggests.

The first door he opens is the master bedroom. Inside is a king-sized, with dark blue and black silky sheets. Louis lets his hands glide over one of the velvet decorative pillows at the head of the bed, skims the soft duvet. He lets out a little groan. “Divine.” 

Harry swallows. He wouldn’t mind Louis rubbing his hands like that over himself, either of them actually. He spins around like he wants to inspect the closet, if only to quickly press a hand against himself to adjust himself. 

Louis tickles his sides from behind him. “Let’s go, Harold,” he says as he scampers out the room and down the hall. Harry has no choice but to follow him back to the kitchen, where Louis... is perched on the island. It’s adorable. And sexy.

Because Harry’s mature and responsible though, he restrains himself. “It’s nice. I like the island.” 

Five words at a time will suffice.

Louis nods. “The rest of it?” 

“Um, I liked the windows, and I didn’t mind stairs but I wouldn’t want just one bathroom upstairs and none below?” When Louis nods, Harry keeps going. “And this island is pretty great. I kind of want a fireplace, is that too much though?”

Louis’s eyes light up. “I’ve got a brilliant idea.” 

Harry perks up a little. So he may be terrible at this flirting thing, but maybe Louis has caught on? A brilliant idea would be if Louis would take his hand and take him back to the king-size, but hey, he’ll settle for couch sex. (Ha. Like that’d be settling.) He kind of just wants any friction that isn’t his dick trapped inside, only sort of rubbing against his pants?

But Louis doesn’t perform a strip tease or try to seduce Harry. Instead he dangles his keys in the air, and is out of the apartment before Harry sighs and trudges after him. 

===

The fourth place feels amazing to Harry. When he walks up, the building itself looks special. There are flowers growing, and vines around some of the pots. It’s lovely. There is an elevator, and the apartment is only on the second floor, so Harry isn’t trapped in a confined space with the most delectable person on Earth two inches away for more than a minute. 

It still feels like eternity though, because while there is plenty of space for both of them, Louis is standing right next to Harry. It’d be an invasion of personal space, but Harry doesn’t find himself caring at the moment. 

Louis has kept up a steady stream of conversation on his part, filling in silence where Harry can’t think quickly enough to respond. Right now, he won’t shut up about how much he loved the leather sofa, yet also liked the silk sheets on the last bed. He doesn’t seem to care that those features aren’t what comes with an apartment, Harry can put those features anywhere. “...Especially feels nice when you just sleep au natural, probably.” 

And Harry’s mind blanks out again, imagining a naked Louis curled and tucked into a messy bed, sheets around him, sleeping soundly. Or even better, an awake Louis, sleepy, getting head. Or giving head. Or (oh God, there are so many fantasies) Louis could be lying in bed, naked, surrounded by the slightly shiny satin sheets, except they’d be crumpled and fisted tightly in Louis’s hands as Louis concentrated on not touching himself.

The elevator dings and Louis steps out. He unlocks the door, slightly bent over again. Does he not realize that he’s basically sticking his ass in Harry’s face every time they do this? Louis unlocks the door and opens it for Harry. He steps inside, and then Louis slips in behind him. 

The door clicks shut and Harry turns around to exclaim something to Louis about the fireplace, when Louis’s hands are abruptly on his chest, pulling on his collar, pulling him down. He doesn’t fight it, lets Louis bite his lip and suck noisily. He makes his own muffled noises into Louis’s mouth and his hands automatically lock onto Lou’s hips. Louis, in turn, turns them around and shoves. Harry’s pressed up against the door, hasn’t even seen the apartment yet, is too caught up in yes and more in his thoughts, and the soft ahs that escape Louis. 

Lou’s hands are fumbling at Harry’s zipper, and Harry tries to help. Instead, their hands get tangled so Louis slaps Harry’s hands to finish himself. Then they’re moving again, and Louis pulls both their shirts off as he drags them... somewhere. Harry’s not paying attention. They break apart so Louis can yank his own shirt off. 

Somewhere, finally, the long-absent logic center of Harry’s brain flickers to life. “Lou... don’t stop... but, like, this place isn’t mine....” 

Louis doesn’t stop kissing Harry, his lips are wet and his eyes shut. In between kisses, Louis answers. “It’s my friend’s... he owes me.” Louis shuffles back and bends down to yank at Harry’s trousers. “He’s on his honeymoon, thanks to me. Trust me, he owes me.” 

Harry groans loudly and not on his own accord when Louis noses into his hipbone, licks a quick smidge there. He’s so hard, and it feels like he’s been like this all morning, God, why isn’t he naked-- when Louis is making quick work of his pants, and soon Harry’s left wearing nothing, his shoes and clothes scattered around the apartment. 

He lets himself be manhandled, not really aware of his surroundings as he just takes in Louis, quickly stripping himself, sees him give a quick tug to himself like he can’t resist. 

Louis is coming closer to Harry again, and Harry reaches out, finally lets himself grope Louis’s ass while Louis ruts up against him and pushes him backwards. His back hits something, and he lets out a quiet oof that has Louis chuckling. “I’ll be right back,” Louis whispers, quiet now, as he kisses Harry’s ear.

He’s back in a second with a condom and a small unopened bottle of lube. “Are you up for...?” Louis makes a motion at the things lying on the kitchen island that Harry’s against. 

It’s a small moment of seriousness and Harry’s blushing again as he nods quickly. “Yeah, you?” 

Louis laughs. “Fucking hell, Harry.” Harry giggles a little. “Are you okay with me...?” He trails off again. He’s tucked against Harry like they’re hugging, but his hands have drifted and he lightly strokes a finger down between Harry’s cheeks. 

Louis can feel the jolt that goes through Harry, and the strangled “yes” that comes out of him sounds like a grunt and a plea. 

Louis reaches up for his shoulders then, spins Harry around so that he’s facing away from Louis. Louis kicks his feet out, separating Harry’s legs, and pushes Harry’s back lightly for him to bend over a little. 

Harry complies, easy and malleable under Louis’s care, and leans on his arms on the kitchen island. He’s just noticing that it’s granite, and he’s secretly delighted (he really wanted that or marble, really. It’s just the best surface for kitchens, easy to clean, pretty, and hard to damage.) before his eyes squeeze shut when he feels Louis’s hands spread him apart, feels his tongue press around him. 

It’s fucking hot and Harry’s never been into this before, but something about being leaning over the island, with his legs stretched out for Louis behind him, is doing it for him. Lou’s rubbing tiny circles around Harry’s ring and not pressing in, yet. There are little presses of kisses against the backs of his legs, his lower back, his ass. 

He can’t help it when he starts gyrating his hips a little, lost in the rhythm that Louis has created. The tip of Louis’s finger slips in and Harry doesn’t really feel it. He does, however, feel it when it presses in deeper. His hips still and Louis is rubbing a hand up Harry’s thigh, soothing him, as Harry adjusts. Slowly, when he’s in farther, he starts moving his finger around, loosening Harry up slowly. Harry’s gripping the sides of the island in an effort not to jerk himself off now, as he’s one hundred percent sure he could do.

“Ready for more?” Lou’s voice is raspy, and it makes Harry’s cock twitch to think that Louis is just as turned on right now. 

“Been ready for fuckin’ ever, Lou,” Harry manages to gasp out when Louis’s second finger nudges in. 

He can feel the stretch, but it isn’t extremely painful. Just a bit uncomfortable. Or at least it is, until Louis brings a slick hand around Harry to give him a few sweet tugs. His hand slides easily up Harry’s erection because Harry started to drip about five minutes ago, and Harry actually pushes Lou’s hand away because he doesn’t want to come yet. 

Harry thinks Louis is up to three fingers, but he can’t be sure. It’s such a heady, intense feeling, and Harry clenches down as he moves his hips again. Lou swats him lightly on the bottom. “Stop pulling my fingers in, Harry.” Harry groans. “You’re so goddamn eager, you know that?” Harry whines at Louis’s words. 

Louis is slipping his fingers out, and Harry can feel himself squeeze down to try and bear down on anything, anything because Louis is gone, but then he’s left needy no longer. Louis holds him open as he presses in, then covers both Harry’s hands with his own and kisses the back of Harry’s neck. 

He starts fucking into Harry slowly, he doesn’t have a lot of leverage like this. Sure, Harry’s bent over the island, but Louis is holding his hands and kissing his shoulders instead of gripping into his hips to push in harder. 

Harry grinds back into Louis, loves the slight slapping noise it makes when their bodies meet. His hands are trapped under Louis’s, so he can’t touch himself, but...

He’s so close. He’s been on the edge for an hour, longer it seems. Louis slowly pulls back, so he’s not so much laying on top of Harry in a slant but is standing on his own accord. He pulls out, then slams back into Harry with more force than earlier. He grips Harry’s waist now, uses it to thrust harder. Harry yells, is groaning a loud medley of Louis and Oh, God and harder, now, harder, oh my God, Lou, Lou, until Louis slaps his ass. It stings for just a second, and then Harry’s feeling wonderfully overwhelmed when Louis reaches around to stroke Harry just once before he’s coming hard, coming so hard that he’s only being supported by Louis and held up by the island. He’s basically collapsed on it, the cool stone feeling refreshing against his hot face. He’s panting hard, feels it when Louis is coming just a moment after, and ohhhh. 

This was definitely a good idea. Harry’s lying here, fucked out, barely standing, with a gorgeous man behind him. He hasn’t checked yet, but he thinks when he looks around the flat he’ll probably love it. It has a good vibe. 

A few minutes later, when the two have caught their breath and have reached an awkward giggly stage of trying to put pants back on and laughing at the mess on the island, Harry meets Louis’s eyes. “I think I’ll take the place,” he says. He’s being serious but he’s still got this enormous grin on his face that matches Lou’s. 

“Okay.”

Harry smiles, reaches out for Lou’s hand. “Show me around?”

“Well, as a frequent visitor to this flat, I would adore it. I can tell you that there is an office and bedroom, all the boring shit you’d expect. And then, of course, since I always know what the client wants-- what the client needs, dear Harold--” Harry blushes-- “I present a lovely bathroom, lovely windows throughout, no stairs, and a fantastic kitchen.”

Harry looks shyly at Louis now. “Would you want me to prove it?” When Louis looks confused, he jumps to elaborate. “Like, um, the kitchen? I can show you it’s fantastic?” 

Louis has a dirty smile on his face. “Lou!” Harry can hear the whiny tone in his voice. “Not like that, God, you already did that!” Louis only laughs apologetically. “I mean... like, I could cook for you? If you’d like?” 

“‘Course I’d like,” Louis answers back, lifting up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry on the cheek. “You’re rather charming, I’d love to spend more time with you. And you know, the rest of the flat needs christening too.” 

Harry just snorts and leans in for another kiss. 

“Whatever you want, Lou.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the lovely tags: #AU WHERE LOUIS IS A REAL ESTATE AGENT #AND HARRY WALKS BY HIS BENCH ONE DAY #AND HAS TO A DOUBLE TAKE #BECAUSE HOLY SHIT THIS GUY IS FIT #AND HARRY HAD BEEN HALF HEARTEDLY BEEN LOOKING FOR A NEW PLACE #BUT SUDDENLY HE’S REALLY INTERESTED #SO HE BOOKS AN APPOINTMENT AND WHEN HE FIRST MEETS LOUIS HE’S SPEECHLESS #AS HE’S WAY HOTTER IN PERSON AND HARRY FORGETS WHAT HE EVEN WANTED TO LOOK FOR #BUT LOUIS TAKES THE REINS EASILY AND FLIRTS UP A STORM #’TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED HARRY AND I’LL GIVE IT TO YOU’ #AND WHEN THEY GO THROUGH THE FLATS LOUIS PURPOSELY TOUCHES/EVERY/DAMN/THING #CARESSING RAILINGS #KITCHEN COUNTERS #SPENDS MUCH TOO LONG SHOWING HARRY BEDROOMS #AND BY THE LAST PLACE HARRY THINKS HE’S GOING TO DIE #OR COME IN HIS PANTS HE’S NOT SURE #LUCKILY ENOUGH THE FLAT IS OWNED BY A FRIEND OF LOUIS’ #AND HE CROWDS HARRY UP AGAINST THE FRONT DOOR AS SOON AS IT CLOSES #’MY MATE OWES ME A FAVOR SO…’ #AND HE FUCKS HARRY UP AGAINST THE BRAND NEW ISLAND IN THE KITCHEN #AND HARRY ADMIRES THE GRANITE COUNTERTOPS BECAUSE HEY HE’S A COOK #AND THESE ARE GREAT COUNTERTOPS #SO HE GETS THE FLAT #AND THE FIT REAL ESTATE AGENT TOO


End file.
